


Best Laid Plans

by Kate_Shepard



Category: Divergent - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bad Four, Dirty Talk, Domestic Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eris - Freeform, F/M, Friends to Lovers, POV First Person, Porn with Feelings, Revenge Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-05-23 11:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14933679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate_Shepard/pseuds/Kate_Shepard
Summary: Eric has enough problems on his plate, what with helping to run a faction and being a semi-willing pawn in Jeanine's plans--plans that have fortunately been delayed long enough for him to hopefully talk her into a smarter way to handle the Divergent problem, one that won't bring down the faction system in the process. The last thing he needs is a little Stiff complicating things. But when Tris' and Four's relationship goes down the drain, he sees a way to finally get rid of his rival once and for all. He doesn't realize he's getting far more than he bargained for.





	1. Eric: An Unexpected Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into the Divergent series, so go easy on me. I've mixed lore and characters from both the books and the movies and--fair warning--will be utilizing some of the darker sides of Four's nature and potential while exploring what I think makes Eric tick. 
> 
> The fic is almost complete on my end, but due to some medical issues that have arisen, it's going on temporary hiatus as of 07/2018. Once things smooth out, I'll be back to update.

If I hadn’t been looking directly at her the moment the door opened, I would have missed the expression on her face when he walked in. As it is, I’d just looked up to see if she was paying attention to the instructions I’ve been giving her on how to process interfaction credit transfers so we can actually get paid for guarding Amity’s happy asses when they’re outside the fence or reimburse Erudite for the truckload of fear serum we just got in for the new initiates, so I caught it. Other people’s feelings generally mean nothing to me, but when a Dauntless—and I don’t mean a pansy-ass initiate; I mean a _real_ Dauntless like the Stiff somehow turned out to be—has that look in her eyes outside a simulation, you pay attention because it means something is wrong. In this case, something is _very_ wrong.

Tris is afraid of Four.

A part of me crows at that revelation because it means there’s trouble in paradise and I can’t stand the thought of Four being happy after all the shit he’s pulled. Another part of me says it’s none of my business and I shouldn’t care. But I’ve never seen Tris afraid of anything outside of the sims, not even me and if she isn’t afraid of _me_ but she’s afraid of _him,_ then something’s going on that I need to know about.

I tell myself that’s the reason why I shift so that I’m standing behind her with my hands braced on the table on either side of her and give him a dismissive look. “We’re working. Unless this is faction related, get out.”

“I need to talk to Tris,” he says. “Alone.”

She stiffens and I feel her back brush my chest. Whether consciously or not, she’s putting herself closer to me because of him. She isn’t just afraid. She’s terrified. It doesn’t show in her voice, though, when she says, “Unless it’s faction related, I have nothing to say to you, Four. Please leave.”

He takes a step forward and her small back presses solidly against my chest. I growl, but he ignores me. His eyes are locked on her. “Come on, Tris,” he says. “Talk to me. I’m sorry. I never meant to—” He breaks off and looks at me for the first time. His eyes are cold and he sneers before softening and looking back at Tris. “I was just trying to calm you down.”

Since joining Dauntless, Tris has lost most of the Stiff inflection, so it’s strange to hear it again when she says in a carefully modulated voice, “This is for your own good. I’m only trying to help you, Tobias.”

I don’t get it, but he does. The last time I saw that expression on his face was when I punched him in the jaw during our first fight as initiates. He looks both stunned and betrayed and the fact that it’s _Tris_ who put that look on his face is just rich! This is the best day I’ve had in a long time.

“Tris, I’m not—I didn’t—how can you say that?” he stutters.

“Leave,” she says coldly.

He doesn’t look inclined to listen, so I add, “Now, Four. Or do I have to drag you out myself?”

“This doesn’t concern you, Eric,” he snaps. “This isn’t even your office.”

“It concerns me when you’re keeping me from instructing my trainee because of your personal bullshit. Handle this on your own time. Or don’t. I don’t care. Just get out before I throw you out.”

Four snarls and turns on his heel. The windows rattle when he slams the door. Tris slumps and takes a series of deep breaths like she’s coming up out of the sim. If I were a nice guy, I’d ask if she was okay. I’m not a nice guy. I move back into my original place beside her and tap the screen of the computer monitor. We already have too much to do today and I don’t have time to deal with this right now. I’ll get the story out of her eventually because I do want to know what he did to put that look on her face. Maybe it’ll be something I can finally get rid of him over. But right now, it’s more important that we get these credits transferred or I’ll have Jeanine breathing down my ass.

Tris squares her shoulders and turns her attention back to the monitor, but whispers, “Thank you.”

“For what?” I ask.

“You know what,” she says. “Don’t make it a thing. Just say you’re welcome and let’s get back to work.”

The first time I noticed Tris Prior, she was pushing her way through the crowd of initiates on the roof on Choosing Day. It was my third time through that ritual, first as an initiate myself and then as a leader, and none of the previous groups had prepared me for a Stiff offering to jump first. She was shaking so hard when she stepped up onto the ledge that I thought she was going to chicken out and I was going to have to push her. But before I could, she crossed her arms over her chest and stepped off. I expected her to scream the whole way down, but the only sound that echoed up was the grunt when she hit the net.

I’d thought then that maybe she would follow in Four’s footsteps and be a force to be reckoned with despite her size and faction of origin, but then Molly beat the shit out of her and I quit paying attention until the incident with the knives. I don’t remember the boy’s name, just that he’d pissed me off because someone that big shouldn’t have been that much of a coward. I might have let him get away with refusing to go get the knife if he’d actually challenged me, just to reward him for finally showing some balls, but he just had to keep talking. Cowardice has no place in Dauntless and he was a coward.

Tris, though, not only stood up to me without hesitation, she stood in front of the board without a hint of fear while Four threw the first knife. The more we taunted her, the angrier and more determined she got. She’s had more spirit from day one than any initiate I’ve seen.

Contrary to what her friends think, I put her up against Peter not as a punishment, but because I knew he’d try to get into her head and I wanted to see if that would be what finally pushed her to fight back. As much as I hate to remember how Four kicked my ass during training, I wanted to see if she’d do what he did. She tried at first. I’ll give her that. I’d have given her points just for that if Four hadn’t played his hand and if she hadn’t lost her will when she saw him walk away. I was disappointed in her and I enjoyed making Four squirm every time he saw her name below the red line.

I wasn’t really surprised when she kicked ass at capture the flag. What did surprise me, though, were her fear sims. Not only was she fast, she has fewer fears than I do. If not for Four, she might hold the record.

A thought occurs to me. As a leader, I was able to see her fear landscape. I know exactly what Tris is afraid of. One of her fears was either intimacy or sex. I could only see the events, not her interpretation of them, so I’m not sure which it was, but I’d assumed she’d gotten over that one. She and Four have been together for almost a year. It seems absurd that they’d go that long without getting her over it, but they are both Stiffs. Sex is viewed differently in Abnegation than in Dauntless.

Is that what he did to scare her? Did he get tired of waiting for her to come around and push her too far? My hands curl into fists on the table. If he did, I’ll kill him myself. I know I don’t have the most reliable moral compass, but it does point north on some things and that’s one of them. I’ve done some terrible things, but I’ve _never_ forced myself on a girl. If I can’t get it willingly, I don’t get it. With my reputation, that means I don’t get it often, but I’d rather go without than cross that line.

“He didn’t, you know, force anything, did he?” I ask before I can stop myself.

“What?” she asks. “No! It’s not that. He wouldn’t…I don’t think he would do that.” She sounds uncertain when she corrects herself and now I’m wondering what he _did_ do if it’s made her question something she was once certain of about him.

Later, I remind myself. “Good,” I say. My next words surprise even me. “Because if he did, you know you can tell me, right? That kind of shit isn’t tolerated here.”

Her cheeks turn scarlet and she ducks her head. “He didn’t. Just drop it. Please.”

Maybe he cheated on her. No. That wouldn’t scare her. That would just piss her off. She’d kick his ass for something like that. Did he hit her? Before I can stop myself, I grasp her chin in my hand and turn her head so I can see her face. Her hair is down today when she usually keeps it in a ponytail, so I brush it back over her shoulders. She tries to jerk out of my grip, but I tighten it just enough to keep her still. I’m not trying to hurt her. I just want her to be still.

I see her every day since Max assigned me to train her for leadership. Neither one of us were happy about that at first, but we finally found a rhythm. She’s smart. Almost Erudite smart. I rarely have to explain things to her more than once. When I do, it’s just a matter of figuring out how to phrase it in a way that makes sense to her. Once I figured out how she learns, she took off and as much as I hate to admit it, we make a pretty good team.

Still, I’d somehow forgotten how small she is. She walks around with so much confidence that it makes her look bigger than she really is. Now, though, it’s apparent. My hand covers her jaw from ear to ear with room to spare. I could crush her throat with no more effort than I’d put into crushing a can. Her skin is delicate and I can feel her pulse thrumming against the side of my thumb. Her eyes are narrowed and I can see her trying to decide whether to fight or just let me look.

Someone, probably her Candor friend I hung over the chasm, has taught her how to do makeup. She’s gotten good at it, too, because it isn’t until the light hits her face just right that I see the dark crescent under her eye. When I carefully probe the discolored skin, she winces and jerks her head back. I let her go. My fingers slide over a handprint below her ear that had previously been hidden by her hair and then covered by my hand. A faint line bisects the corner of her lip, its color covered by lipstick.

“He hit you.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she mutters, drawing her hair over her shoulder again so that it shades the side of her face.

“Did you hit him back?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she repeats.

She tries to go back to the computer, but I prop my hips against the desk and cross my arms over my chest, blocking her view. “Too bad. I do.”

“It’s none of your business, Eric,” she snaps.

“It is when it interferes with my workday.”

“It’s only interfering because you won’t drop it. He hit me. I left. End of story. Can we get back to work?”

“Did you hit him first?”

“No.”

Something about this situation doesn’t sit right with me. It took weeks for Four to really hit a girl during training. Even then, I’ve never seen him get physical with one who wasn’t a serious threat to someone else. On the other hand, people who are abused as children are statistically more likely to become abusers themselves and I’m familiar with Four’s history.

Her comment to him earlier makes more sense now. I’d bet every credit I have that his father used to say that to him when he beat him. The little Stiff has bite, comparing him to his worst fear that way. The bastard deserves it. That’s another line I’ve never crossed. Outside of training, I’ve never hit a girl who hadn’t hit me first. I especially wouldn’t do it to a girlfriend I claimed to love. It’s a sad day when the illustrious Four has a more skewed moral compass than I do.

If she’d be willing to testify to Max and me that he put his hands on her outside of a spar when he wasn’t defending himself, I could get him kicked out. Domestic violence isn’t usually a big issue here since no one here is afraid to fight, but it does happen on occasion. Three months ago, one of our members chose the chasm over exile after he shoved his pregnant wife into a wall and made her miscarry. The bitch shouldn’t have done what she did, but his response was cowardly and inexcusable.

I turn around and finish the credit transfer. I can finish teaching it to her tomorrow when we pay Amity for our food. If I can get her to talk now when she’s vulnerable, I’ll be more likely to convince her to go to Max. I’ve wanted Four gone for three years and this is the first real chance I’ve had since I haven’t been able to prove he’s a fucking Divergent.

“What are you doing?” she asks when I take her by the elbow and steer her out of the office.

“You need a drink,” I say.

“It’s the middle of the workday!”

“And I’m your boss and I say we’re getting a drink.”

“Why are you so concerned about this?” she asks suspiciously. “Are you just seeing a way to get rid of him?”

She’s caught me. I shrug. “That would be a side benefit, yes. But I’m more worried about you right now. If your mind’s on what happened rather than what we’re doing, you aren’t going to learn anything and you’re just wasting my time. If you’re going to waste my time, I’d rather do it at the bar.”

The lie rolls easily off my tongue. I never would have made it in Candor. I’m glad Jeanine wanted me in Dauntless. The aptitude test is easy enough to manipulate if you know how to think like an Erudite. Manipulating these adrenaline junkies is simple. Beating the fear sims is as much intellect as courage. I don’t know that I could have overcome the truth serum, though. Lying comes too easily to me. The truth is what’s hard.

Not for the first time, I wonder what Tris’ aptitude result was. Even the leaders don’t know. Jeanine does, I’m sure, but I’ve never asked her. Tris seems Dauntless through and through, but at the same time, she sees through me and she really is smart. Her brother is in Erudite. That must have pissed her father off. Andrew Prior loathes our former faction. He would have chosen before her, so it’s possible she got Erudite and picked Dauntless in an effort to keep the peace with her father while getting out of Abnegation. But that would be either a Stiff or an Amity thing to do, not an Erudite one.

She does have a lot of Stiff tendencies, which I’ve attributed to her upbringing, but maybe she did score Abnegation and just wanted out. I know most of what Erudite has published about them isn’t true, but that doesn’t mean Andrew Prior wasn’t just as guilty as Marcus Eaton of the accusations against him. No one wanted to believe it of Marcus, either, but I have a hard time believing Natalie would allow that. Had her mother pushed her toward Dauntless?

Or, maybe, she really did get our faction and she’s just smarter than our average membership. Four’s intelligent, too, and brave doesn’t necessarily mean stupid. Just look at me. I don’t know what my real aptitude is. If I hadn’t deliberately been attempting to get the result I did, I might have chosen the knife anyway. Erudite thinking got me the result I wanted, but that doesn’t mean I would have chosen differently without it.

Tris reluctantly follows me into the bar. It’s quiet in here for once. The night shift workers have already left and gone to bed and the day shift hasn’t ended yet, so only a few stragglers perch on the barstools. I direct her to a booth in the corner where I can put my back to the wall and see everything around us and signal the bartender for two of my usual. Tris doesn’t strike me as the type to drink girly concoctions.

I wait until Clive delivers our drinks and then say, “Talk.”

She takes the shot and slaps the glass onto the table. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she says.

Stubborn woman. I order another round and tell Clive to just leave the bottle. If I need to get her hammered so she’ll talk, so be it. “Why won’t you talk about it? Scared?” I challenge.

“No,” she insists, pouring another. “No offense, Eric, but you’re the last person I’d confide in.”

“Why is it that whenever someone says, ‘No offense,’ what they really seem to mean is, ‘Kiss my ass’?” I mutter.

That earns a smirk from her. “Hear that a lot, do you?”

“No,” I say truthfully. “Most people are too afraid to get snarky with me.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“Then why are you afraid of Four?”

“I’m not afraid of Four, either.”

“Liar.”

She glares at me and slaps the glass against the table again. If she does it any harder, it’s going to shatter in her hand. She pours another shot. She may not want to talk, but she’s taken wholeheartedly to the drinking idea. At this rate, she’ll pass out before she opens up. I get Clive to bring her a glass of water and take the bottle of whiskey away until she empties the glass. I need her on that edge of being drunk enough to talk but sober enough to be coherent. She doesn’t weigh enough to keep drinking the way she is. And I certainly don’t need her turning into an alcoholic over this. It would be a pain in the ass to find a new leadership trainee at this stage.

“Why’d he hit you?” I ask again when she’s regained her equilibrium.

“How the hell should I know?” she asks.

“Did you cheat on him?”

“You mean, did I deserve it,” she says.

“No. What I mean is, did you do something that made him feel justified or was it unprovoked? I don’t believe there’s any justification for it other than violence on your part, but I’m trying to understand where he was coming from so that I can gauge the seriousness of the situation. Has he snapped? Is he a danger to others or just to you? Was it an isolated incident or is it one he’s at risk of repeating? We trust him with initiates. Is that a bad idea? Is he a danger to his students? I can’t judge any of that until I know what happened. You were there. I wasn’t. So, I need you to talk.”

She groans and rubs her hands over her face before raking them through her hair. “We were arguing. We’ve been doing that a lot lately. He isn’t happy with the direction the faction is taking and he blames you for most of it. As I’ve come to understand why you do things the way you do, I’ve been trying to explain it to him.”

“And he would see that as you defending me to him, taking my side over his,” I guess.

She nods. “He’s…softer than I am. He doesn’t get it. Some days I think he wants us to be like Amity with guns or something. He has…had…honor and I loved that about him, but…” She looks up at me. “I used to think he was the only person who understood me. I thought he was the only one who could see all the worst parts of me and not judge me or walk away. Turns out, he just thought he could change me. He doesn’t trust my judgment. He doesn’t trust me. You listen to my ideas better than he does. He only listens to me when he agrees with me.”

“Then he’s an idiot,” I say.

If someone had told me six months ago that I’d be drinking and trash-talking Four with Tris, I’d have laughed at them. So, as much as I wish she’d get to the heart of things, I let myself enjoy watching her disillusionment. She’s finally seeing what I knew all along. Behind the pretty face, Four is just as fucked up as everyone else. If only Amar could have seen that.

She places her hands on the table and twists them together. “He’s been spending a lot of time with Shauna since she and Zeke broke up.”

So, he did cheat on her. “And you confronted him?”

She nods. “He said it was a mistake. They were both drunk. It wouldn’t happen again. Yada-yada. Then he tried to blame it on me spending so much time with you. He said I was turning into you. I told him that at least you listen when I speak and he slapped me here.” She points to her jaw. “I was so surprised, I just stood there and stared at him. I thought about hitting him back, but it felt like if I did that, I’d be just as guilty as he was and it would cancel it out somehow. Neither one of us would be at fault and I wouldn’t walk away. Instead, I started throwing his shit out the door and told him to get the fuck out. I was being loud and he was afraid I’d draw attention and people would find out what he’d done. He kept telling me to be quiet and saying we just needed to talk about it. I didn’t listen. He grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me. I pushed him away and that’s when he punched me.”

“He didn’t get you anywhere else?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I dodged the next one and got away when he hit the wall.”

“Then why are you afraid of him? You’ve taken worse hits than that. Hell, _I’ve_ hit you harder than that in the past year. You aren’t afraid of me. You aren’t afraid of Peter. So why Four?”

She takes another shot. “You hurt people when it’s the most expedient way to teach them a lesson. Peter hurts people when it benefits him. Neither of you do it because you enjoy it. Though, Peter at least seems to enjoy it while he’s doing it, especially when he’s got his hands on you,” she mutters darkly.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know,” she says. “Four told me he tried to tell you and you blew him off.”

I lean forward and look at her seriously. “What I know is that Four told me there had been an attack. I hadn’t known it was you until I talked to Peter. He’d said they were just trying to scare you, so I thought Four was being overprotective. I didn’t see what the big deal was. So, you guys had a fight. So what? Initiates under pressure and in competition with each other are going to fight on occasion. No one mentioned sexual assault.”

“They tried to kill me, Eric!” she exclaims. The people at the bar look over at us and she drops her voice. “They hung me over the chasm and Peter groped me. If Four hadn’t shown up when he did, they’d have raped me and it would have been my body rather than Al’s you dragged out. It would have been my eulogy you gave.”

I knew they’d tried to kill her and I dealt with it, though I didn’t tell Four. I didn’t know that they’d planned to rape her, too. Damn it. I’m going to have to find a new lackey. I don’t like Peter. I don’t think anyone does. But he’s useful and his ambition makes him predictable, which is probably why Tris isn’t scared of him. After what she said and the conviction in her voice, though, I’m afraid I’ll strangle him the next time I see him.

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re afraid of Four,” I say.

She tilts her head back and stares up at the ceiling. “You didn’t see his eyes. He _enjoyed_ hitting me. He wanted to hurt me. Peter is a bully. That makes him a coward. I understand that. Four isn’t a coward. So, I don’t understand it. I don’t understand him and I can’t predict him and that makes me feel powerless and _that’s_ what scares me. I don’t understand my enemy, so I don’t know how to beat him.”

Hearing her call Four her enemy is the sweetest thing I’ve heard all day. “I can help you with that,” I tell her. Unlike her, I do understand Four. I’ve made it a point to understand him. After all, he’s been trying to ruin me from day one.

At first, it was just fun to torment the timid Stiff. He was an easy target and I was bored in initiation. From the time Jeanine informed me of my role in her plan, I began studying and practicing. By the time Choosing Day rolled around, I already knew how to fight. I knew the theory of weapons even if I hadn’t had an opportunity to use them. I’d practiced controlling my body and my mind so that I could think through fear. I wasn’t learning anything new. I had no friends. The Stiff was a distraction for my idle mind.

When he started climbing the ranks and becoming competition, I welcomed it at first. I didn’t feel like anyone else could challenge me. And then he started beating me. I’d worked my ass off to make sure I would be number one so that I’d have a guaranteed shot at leadership and in walks this scared little Stiff who knows nothing and he’s better than me. It pissed me off. I’m no Peter. I wasn’t about to stab him in the eye or throw him into the chasm to get ahead. I didn’t think I needed to. I’m smarter than he is. I used the one weapon I had over him and I got into his head.

Then, he accused me of having something to do with Amar’s death and our competition became much more vitriolic. I know he and the instructor were close, but I didn't do what he thinks. I'd thought Jeanine was going to study Divergents. I didn’t realize she planned on killing them. I’d like to think I wouldn’t have agreed to her plan if I’d known what she was going to do. I’d like to think I’d have told her to fuck off. But then Amar was gone and I was getting blamed for it and Jeanine was the only thing between me and factionlessness or worse.

I tried to back out once. I’d liked George. He was a good kid. He’d never done anything to me even though he didn’t like me. He was brave. He was everything a Dauntless should be. And I like Tori, though I know she despises me. She’s the one who put the tattoos on my arms and gave me my leadership stripes. I told Jeanine no and she told me I’d be next. So, I did what I had to do and I’ve kept doing it because if I don’t, it’ll be me they drag out of the chasm or my smear they’ll clean off of the pavement or my body they’ll cut down from the ceiling of the Pire.

I still believe Divergents are dangerous. I believe in the faction system. Before the great war, the country Chicago used to be a part of had been at war almost constantly for two hundred years. Since the faction system was implemented, we’ve had peace for two centuries. It works. It keeps the peace. Divergents can’t be classified; therefore, they’re a threat to the system. If they can have loyalty to more than one faction, what’s to stop regular people from choosing to remain loyal to their faction of origin rather than the one they choose? If that happens, we’ll descend into chaos and endless war will once again be the norm. There aren’t enough of us left to risk that.

Unlike Jeanine, though, I think Divergents need to be studied. If we understand what makes them the way they are, we can find a way to prevent it rather than having to search for them. Jeanine’s fear of them makes her blind to that. I’ve long since stopped believing that even she believes her own rhetoric. Jeanine isn’t trying to save the faction system. She isn’t concerned that Abnegation is harboring Divergents or that they’re leading the city to its downfall. She just wants power.

I get that. I want it, too. I just don’t think that genocide of an entire faction is the way to go about it. What happens when we wipe out an entire faction? There will still be people with an aptitude for Abnegation. Are we then going to force them into a faction where they don’t belong? That, more than the Stiffs or even the Divergents, will undermine the system and lead to its downfall. Even if we were to restore the faction once everyone currently in it is gone, who would choose it? Those questions are the only ones keeping her from moving forward with her plan. Once she finds a way to answer them—and she will—she’ll strike. I’ll either help her willingly or I’ll be activated like all the other drones. At least if I’m conscious, I’ll be able to choose the damage I cause. I’ll still be a pawn, but I’ll be a pawn with agency.

Tris snaps her fingers in front of my face and I drag myself from my thoughts. I need another drink. This isn’t the time to be thinking about this. That’s a problem I can’t yet solve. This is one with a solution. This is what I need to focus on now.

“You should go to Max,” I tell her. “Tell him what you told me. Is there anyone else who can corroborate your statement?”

“No,” she says. “I went to Christina’s and I told her, but no one saw it.”

“Shit.” If there are no witnesses, it’s her word against his. Unless he confesses, Max won’t exile him. He might remove him from his training position and put him on scut work, but we can’t permanently deal with him without proof. Unless… “Would you be willing to go through a Candor trial?”

Her eyes widen. “What? No! I don’t like telling _you_ about this. I’m not going to talk about it to strangers! I can deal with Four.”

“How?”

Her eyes darken. “I don’t want him kicked out. I want him to hurt. I want to break his heart.”

I feel my lips curl into a sadistic grin. I like this Tris. “We can do that.” Hell, if we do it well enough, maybe he’ll jump and save us the trouble.

“How?” she asks.

I consider it for a moment and then the perfect answer comes to me. I swear, sometimes I worry that I’m Divergent myself. I’m too brilliant to be anything but Erudite. I’m too cruel to be anything but Dauntless. “He wants you back, right?” I ask. She nods. “Then what would hurt him more than to see his girl choose his archrival over him?”

She laughs. “You mean you and me?”

“Yeah. You make him think that he pushed you straight from his arms to mine and it’s going to eat him alive. You get your revenge. I get to enjoy the show. It’s a win-win. Except for Four.”

Her disbelieving laugh turns into a broad grin. “All right.”


	2. Tris: Revenge Served Hot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. I've never done first person POV smut before, so be gentle, please!

I’m drunk. I must be drunk to be agreeing to this. Christina isn’t going to like it even though he’s proposed almost exactly the same thing she did. I don’t think Eric was the one she had in mind, though. She was leaning more toward Zeke, who’s almost as mad at him as we are. Zeke wasn’t over Shauna when she and Four hooked up. I don’t know if Tobias didn’t realize it or if he just didn’t care.

I don’t know why he’s done any of the things he has lately. Since he started hanging out with the factionless, our relationship has devolved into nothing but secrets and lies. I only know that much because I followed him one night. I’d woken up to find him gone before and when I asked him where he’d been, he’d lied. His tells are particularly obvious. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has an aptitude for Candor because he’s a terrible liar.

Two months ago, I woke up when he was leaving and decided to follow. I pretended to be asleep until he left the apartment and then followed him down to the train tracks and got on a few cars behind him. I don’t know where I’d expected him to go, but I wasn’t expecting the woman to run out of the woods between factions and hop onto the train car he was in. She jumped back out half an hour later and we rode the train back to Dauntless. I sprinted back to the apartment and made it into bed with just enough time to slow my heart rate and pretend to be asleep again.

Two nights later, he snuck out again and I followed. This time, he went to the factionless. I wasn’t able to get close enough to find out what was going on, but I know he went into a house with several of them and didn’t come out for hours. The woman from the train was there. I don’t know who she is, but I’ve wondered more than once if she’s a former girlfriend even though there seems to be a significant difference in their ages. Every time I’ve seen them together, she’s trying to get close to him, and he treats her with wariness and suspicion.

He goes once or twice a week. I don’t follow him every time. I go often enough to make sure that’s what he’s doing, but I worried that if I did it too often, he’d catch me. Last week, though, he snuck out a third time and I decided it had been long enough that I needed to take the risk. He and Shauna had been spending a lot of time together during the day, but he’d claimed she just needed a shoulder to lean on since her breakup with Zeke. They’ve been friends for longer than I’ve known him and I thought I could trust him, so I was shocked when instead of going to the train tracks, he went to her apartment.

He wasn’t drunk. It wasn’t an accident. She greeted him at the door wearing nothing but a smile. His arms were around her before they crossed the threshold.

He didn’t come home that night. I avoided him for the rest of the week while I tried to figure out what to do. I knew our relationship was over, but I didn’t know how, exactly, I wanted it to end. I’ve never had a boyfriend before, so I don’t know how any of this works.

I say I avoided him, but that makes it sound like effort went into it. He’s been distant for so long now that I don’t know that he even noticed that I wasn’t around. Training kept me occupied during the day. My friends took up my evenings. I stayed with Christina at night. He didn’t come looking for me and I didn’t seek him out. My avoidance was a thing of inaction rather than action and that, more than anything, drove the point home that we had been over long before he turned to Shauna.

Last night was an accident. I’d gone home to get clothing for the next day and he was there. For the first time in weeks, he’d tried to kiss me and that had been the last straw.

_“What are you doing?” I ask, sidestepping him._

_His brow furrows. “Trying to kiss my girlfriend. I haven’t seen you in a while. Where have you been?”_

_“You’re just now noticing that?” I ask._

_“I’ve been busy,” he says, looking at the floor._

_“Maybe if you spent less time with your tongue down Shauna’s throat and a little more time at home, it wouldn’t have taken you a week to realize I haven’t been here.”_

_His jaw drops and he stares at me. “What are you talking about? Tris, we’ve been over this! She’s just a friend. She’s going through a hard time and I’ve been trying to help her.”_

_“Don’t lie to me, Tobias,” I say. “I saw you with her.”_

_His face falls and he rubs the heels of his palms over his eyes. “Fuck, Tris. I’m sorry. It was a mistake. We were drunk. It was an accident. I swear to you, it won’t happen again.”_

_“I told you not to lie to me,” I say. “I watched you get out of our bed and go to her. You left me in our bed to go to someone else. Why, Tobias? Why not just tell me you were done and walk away?”_

_“It’s not that simple, Tris! I love you,” he says, coming toward me with his hands outstretched._

_I ward him off. “You love me? That’s why you’ve been lying and sneaking around and cheating on me? That’s what love looks like to you? I know you’ve had some fucked-up examples of it, but, God, I thought you were better than that!”_

_His jaw clenches. “Well, maybe I wouldn’t have to sneak around if I could trust you.”_

_My laugh grates against my throat. “_ You _can’t trust_ me _? I’m not the one hopping a train every week to go meet some factionless woman. I’m not the one getting naked with my friends! And yet you can’t trust me?! Just how many girls do you have, Four?”_

_“No, I can’t trust you!” he shouts. “How do I know anything I tell you isn’t going straight to Eric?”_

_“What does Eric have to do with anything?” I demand. “He’s my trainer, not my friend!”_

_“Yeah, well, he’s training you all right. I saw that last proposal you submitted on initiation. You’re adopting his tactics. The very same tactics, might I remind you, that lost Edward an eye and almost got you killed!”_

_“That wasn’t Eric’s fault! That was all Peter! If we’d been able to prove any of it, you really think leadership would have let him stay?”_

_“Yes!” he shouts. “Eric didn’t give a shit that Edward got hurt. He didn’t give a shit that they tried to kill you. You think he cares anything about you? You’re nothing but a puppet to him!”_

_“Oh, that’s rich,” I scoff. “Coming from the guy who tries to control everything I do because you still can’t see me as anything but the little Abnegation girl who got her ass handed to her by Peter. At least Eric listens to me!”_

_His hand flashes out so quickly that I have no time to react. I’m not expecting the crack across my mouth even when it comes. My head snaps to the side and I feel my lip split. I turn slowly to face him and find him staring at me wide-eyed with shock like he can’t believe what he just did any more than I can. I bring my hand up to my jaw and feel something wet and sticky. When I draw my fingers back, they’re red with blood. I look up at him again in stunned silence._

_How did we get here? How did it come to this? Scenes from the past year flash through my mind. I see him drawing the net down, the first face to greet me within Dauntless. I see him on the Ferris wheel below me with fear in his eyes and watch him continue to climb anyway. I see him in his fear landscape, huddling in the box with his arms around me. I see him kissing me on the train. I see all of the times he stopped when I asked him to and I see his face the first time I told him not to. I see the joy in his eyes the first time I told him I loved him and the vulnerability the first time he said it to me. I have loved him like I never thought to love anyone: heart and soul and holding nothing back._

_How did we get here? How did we get to this moment? Neither of us knows what to say to fix this. I don’t think anything can. Even if it could, I don’t think I want to and I don’t think he does, either._

_So, this is how love dies._

_“Tris,” he whispers._

_I want to hit him. I want to punch him. I want to make him bleed. I can’t do any of those things or I will become what he accuses me of being. Because if I start hating him now, I don’t think I’ll ever stop. I think I will hate him with as much passion as I loved him, and that will bleed over into everything else in my life. He has kept the darkness in me at bay. He has been my light. That’s gone now and the only thing to keep me from tumbling into the abyss is me. I am too selfish to hit him because I will either hate him or I will forgive him and I cannot tolerate either one._

_“Get out,” I say._

_“Tris, please,” he begs, taking a step toward me. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please listen to me.”_

_“Get out!” I shout._

_I only have so much control and if he touches me, I will lose it. I will hurt him. I will scream. I will cry. I will lose myself in the blinding rage that is trying to consume me. I march past him, careful not to touch him, and go into our bedroom. Our bedroom. The room where we’ve spent countless hours touching and holding each other, baring our souls and sharing our secrets. The room where we’ve spent the past few months sleeping together without touching each other, a chasm as deadly as the one in the Pit growing between us._

_I jerk the drawer with his neatly-folded shirts from the dresser and storm through the living room with it in my hands. He watches as I juggle it so that I can open the door and throw it out into the hallway. “Get out, Tobias! Go home! You don’t live here anymore!” I shout at him._

_He doesn’t listen. I give up any pretense of being methodical and simply begin grabbing anything that belongs to him and throwing it out the door. I want him out. I want every trace of him out. This isn’t our apartment. It’s mine. He still has his. He can go there. I don’t want to look at this place and think of him._

_My eyes fall on the blue glass sculpture his mother gave him. I pick it up and carry it to the door. I won’t throw this, though I am tempted to hit him in the head with it. I don’t. I won’t break it. I’m not that cruel. I’m not so heartless that I will take the only thing he has of his dead mother from him. He must not realize that, though, because when he sees it in my hand, he rushes me and snatches it away._

_Before I can tell him that he’s wrong about my intentions, his hands are on my shoulders and he’s shaking me hard enough that my head bounces against the wall. I break his hold on me and shove him back. His fist flashes out and I’m not fast enough to block the blow. It catches me in the eye and my vision blurs. I bring my arms up to block his next blow and dart to the side. Plaster cracks and showers onto the floor. He looks at me and I am reminded of the black pits of his father’s eyes in his fear landscape. I’m not looking at Four anymore. I am looking at Marcus, but this Marcus is trained to kill and he is much stronger than I am. I run._

“Earth to Tris. Wake up. You passing out on me?”

Eric’s voice brings me back to the present. I blink back tears that threaten to fall. I will not let Eric, of all people, see me cry. I won’t give him a weakness to exploit.

“I’m here,” I say.

“You were a million miles away, Stiff,” he says.

“I was just thinking.”

“Four’s working today, isn’t he?” he asks. When I nod, he says, “Wanna give him a show?”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “I figure we might as well get this plan of ours under way. The sooner, the better, right?”

Christina really isn’t going to like this. I think she’s mad enough at Four right now, though, that she’ll forgive me for making a deal with the devil. Besides, he’s right. Zeke would be painful for Four, but it also might end up hurting Zeke if he got too into the charade and I don’t want to do that. Eric doesn’t have feelings to hurt.

“Let’s go,” I say, downing one last shot. I’m brave, but this is Eric. A little liquid courage won’t hurt.

We stand and I feel his hand come to rest at the small of my back. It’s wide enough that he covers me almost from hip to hip. His touch is light and he uses nothing more than slight pressure to guide me through the bar. I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I let them hang at my side. If he was Four, I’d have my arm around his waist, but I’m too nervous for that.

He puts himself between me and the edge when we walk the edge of the Pit. The ledge here is barely wide enough for both of us and I don’t know if he’s trying to be chivalrous or just showing off his lack of concern over the sheer drop.

We approach the bridge and he says softly, “Are you okay? You seem nervous.”

I look up at him and then at the bridge. I’m only half-joking when I say, “You aren’t going to throw me off, are you?”

He smirks. “Nah. You aren’t a quitter.”

“Neither is Christina,” I say.

He inclines his head. “No, I suppose not.”

We make it across the bridge without incident. I expect him to go to the Pire, but instead, he leads me down a narrow stairway to the bottom of the chasm. The rushing water splashes against a wide ledge. I’m not even surprised that there’s no rail. I’ve been down to the water before with Tobias—with _Four_ —but this is a different section. I’ve never noticed the doors cut into the wall before, but he leads me to one just below the bridge.

“This is where you live?” I ask.

He nods.

I look up. The spot where Peter, Al, and Drew dangled me over the chasm is just above us. “How is it that you didn’t hear me that night?”

“I wasn’t here,” he says. “If I had been and I’d realized it was three boys on one girl, I would have stopped them. Ganging up like that on someone smaller and weaker than you is cowardly.”

I could pursue it further, but I decide not to. His hand is still on my back and now that we’re facing each other, that means his arm is around my waist. Heat radiates off of him and I take a step toward him. The spray is cool and his warmth feels good. “How are we going to give him a show if we’re in your apartment?”

He ducks his head and I feel his lips brush my ear. “Don’t look up, but there are cameras under the bridge. People seem to think it’s a good hiding spot.”

“Why do you live down here?” I ask. My voice comes out as a whisper and I wonder where it’s gone.

“I like being alone,” he says. His nose trails down the side of my neck and I shiver. “When you want me to stop, just say so and we’ll go inside. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

I wasn’t expecting that kind of reassurance from him. Part of my nervousness fades and I hesitantly bring my hands up to his chest. I’m still not certain. This is _Eric_ , after all. In the year that I’ve known him, I’ve never seen anyone touch him outside of a sparring ring and yet here I am and he isn’t tossing me into the water.

He feels different. Where Four is lean and wiry, Eric is broad and heavily muscled. I can feel the slide of hair beneath his shirt and it surprises me for a moment. I’ve seen it peeking up from his collar, but I haven’t paid that much attention and I suppose it’s never fully registered to me that it’s there. Four’s chest is completely smooth. The difference is intriguing and I let my fingers play over it.

“Now you’re getting it,” he murmurs against my skin.

His lips trail over my collarbone, pausing over each of the ravens tattooed there, and back up my neck. His hand cups my jaw, covering the bruise from Four’s, and I’m almost certain this is a message not to me but to Tobias. His thumb gently grazes the split in my lip and he raises a pierced brow. I nod slightly, letting him know that it’s okay and his head lowers once more.

I’ve never kissed anyone else, but the moment Eric’s lips touch mine, I realize that Four kisses like a boy from Abnegation. Four’s lips are soft and full. His kisses are gentle and giving. Eric’s are not. Eric kisses like a Dauntless, confident and bold. He doesn’t ask and he doesn’t give. He not only takes, he _demands_ and I find myself answering it.

My arms slide up to wrap around his neck and he pulls me closer to him. There isn’t room for a breath of air between us. He pivots, pressing my back against the wall, and I run my fingers along the short hair at the base of his neck. To my surprise, he nips my lower lip. Electricity shoots through me and suddenly, it’s not enough. It will never be enough.

My nails rake down the back of his neck and he groans. I want to feel his skin, so I bring my hands down to his waist and slide them under his shirt, splaying them across his lower back. Muscles flex beneath my fingers and heat radiates into my palms. The hand on my jaw slides back to bury itself in my hair and he tugs, angling my head back and opening my mouth to his tongue. It strokes against mine and my nails dig into the ridge of muscle along his spine. He grabs my hip and hitches my thigh up around his waist and I hear a whimper that sounds nothing like me.

He draws back just enough to whisper against my lips, “Careful, little Stiff, or you’re going to get more than you bargained for.”

“I don’t care,” I whisper back and push up on my toes to meet his mouth again.

His hand slides around to grab my ass and he lifts me off the ground. I wrap my legs around his waist and bring my arms up to lock around his neck. He releases my hair and I vaguely register that he’s reaching into his back pocket. He comes back with a key card and has to slide it against the lock three times before he gets it right. The door opens and he carries me through.

I’ve forgotten all about our show for Four. Tobias is the last thing on my mind right now. It might be the alcohol talking, but it’s been so long since I’ve felt wanted that I feel like a flower trapped in concrete for too long, scrabbling for the sun. It occurs to me that perhaps he is as desperate for this as I am. People fear and avoid him. If he has friends, I don’t know of them. I’ve never seen him with a girl or heard his name attached to one even for a night. In his own way, he’s as gorgeous as Four, but his attitude keeps people at more than arm’s length.

When the door closes behind him, he reaches for the hem of my shirt and begins to draw it up, but stops. “Are you sure?” he breathes. “If you don’t want this, tell me now.”

“I want it,” I tell him. “I want you.”

“You’ve been drinking,” he points out.

“I know what I’m doing,” I say. “I’m a big girl. I own my decisions.”

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he groans and sweeps my shirt up over my head and tosses it aside.

His fingers on my bra clasp are certain and he opens it with a practiced flip of his wrist. It falls and I tug at his shirt. I want to see him. I want to feel his skin against mine. I use my legs and core to hold myself upright when he releases me and allows me to pull it off of him. Thick muscles covered by a soft dusting of hair greet my questing fingertips. He hisses in a breath when my nails scrape lightly over his nipples and I grin at the sign that I’m doing something right.

His arms wrap around me again, supporting me, and he carries us back to a darkened bedroom with quick strides. I hold his neck as he lowers us to the bed and feel cool satin meet my back. The sensation is so far from what I was expecting that I pluck at the sheets with a chuckle.

“I like to be comfortable,” he grumbles and claims my mouth again. I forget the sheets.

Now that he isn’t holding me up, his hands are everywhere, sending sparks flying over my skin. My breasts are small and I’m nervous when he reaches them, but his hand closes over it without complaint. His mouth covers my nipple and his teeth scrape against it. I gasp and my back arches, pressing me against him. His free hand sweeps down my torso and tugs at the button of my pants. I lift my hips for him to draw them down and only then realize I’m still wearing my boots. He notices at the same time I do and kneels back to tug them off. He tosses them over his shoulder and strips my pants from my legs.

I bite my lip and look at him anxiously. I’m completely naked and he’s still wearing everything but his shirt. I feel exposed and reach for the sheet to cover myself. He catches my wrist. “Don’t. I want to see you.”

I gather my courage and give a pointed glance at his waist. “You’re overdressed.”

The corner of his mouth quirks and he says, “I’m working on it.”

He climbs off of the bed and tugs his boots off. I don’t know if he expects me to watch him or not and I consider looking away. He likes boldness, though, so I decide against it and watch him openly. He displays none of the self-consciousness that Four did the first time I saw him. Eric either assumes I’ll find him attractive or doesn’t care. Either way, his confidence is appealing.

He crawls back onto the bed with surprising grace for a man his size and pushes my thighs apart. He draws his tongue from my knee up the inside of my thigh and before I can ask him what he’s doing, it meets my center. I let out a sound that’s somewhere between a gasp and a cry as my body bows up off the mattress. He chuckles against me and murmurs, “Don’t tell me he never did this.”

I’ve lost the ability to form words, so I just shake my head. He hums thoughtfully and then drags his tongue between my folds. I grip his hair and the sheets in my fists as my toes curl almost painfully and he laughs again before beginning to lick me in earnest.

“Eric,” I moan. “Oh, fuck, _Eric_!” My words are back, but his name and curses are the only ones I remember. He slides a thick finger inside me and my hips rock helplessly against his hand. “Eric, _please_!”

He drives me higher with his mouth and tongue until I’m babbling incoherently and begging shamelessly. When I feel like I’m about to burst, he slides his finger out of me and surges up to cover my body with his.

“Last chance to say stop,” he warns, but his voice is thick with desire and I don’t know if he could if I told him to or not. I don’t want the chance to find out. I just want him.

“Don’t stop,” I gasp. “Fuck me, Eric, please!”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that,” he says and buries his hands in my hair. I wrap my legs around his waist as he nudges my entrance and grip his shoulders tightly. He slides an arm under my hips and begins to rock into me. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he grunts, dropping his forehead to my shoulder. His dermals press into my skin, but I’m too far gone to care.

He’s bigger than Four and my body has to stretch to accommodate him. He holds me on a wire balanced perfectly between pleasure and pain. Whenever I begin to tilt to the wrong side, he slows down and gives me a chance to breathe. I’d expected him to just shove into me, so the consideration is both touching and unnerving. Another rock of his hips seats him inside me and he waits again until I catch my breath.

“Hadn’t expected you to be…” I trail off, unsure of how to say it without offending him.

“Not an asshole?” he asks. His voice is tight, but I feel him grin against my collarbone. “The more you enjoy it, the better it is for me. I don’t want to fight to fuck you.”

With that, he begins to move. He’s slow and steady at first, but soon he’s pounding into me. Four never did it like this. He was always careful with me. I’d thought I liked that, but this is so much more. It isn’t just sensation. Eric doesn’t treat me like I’m about to break. He fucks me like he expects that I’m strong enough to take it. I do and demand more. My nails rake down his back and he buries his teeth in my shoulder.

Without warning, he pulls out of me and flips me onto my belly. His hands grip my hips and pull me to my knees. I brace my hands against the headboard and he pushes into me once more. The new angle takes him deeper and I bite his pillow to muffle the sounds coming from me.

He wraps my hair around his wrist and tugs my head up. “Don’t,” he says against my ear. “I want to hear you. Moan for me, Tris. That’s my girl. Good girl. Did Four make you feel like this? Did he fuck you until you forgot everything but his name?”

“N-no,” I groan. “Eric, please.”

He rocks back on his heels, taking me with him so that my back is pressed against his chest. His hand comes around to circle my throat and he applies just enough pressure that I feel the threat inherent in the gesture, but not enough to actually cut off my air or blood flow. My head drops back against his shoulder and he continues to murmur against my ear, things I’ve never heard anyone say before. It’s raw and filthy and wrong and I _love_ it.

His thumb scrapes across my clit and I can’t hold back anymore. I scream his name and feel his arms tighten around me. His hips snap and he groans against my shoulder. We collapse forward, breathing heavily. I can still feel him pulsing inside me.

This is the point where my fear of sex usually rears its head. It’s the one time when I really need reassurance because it’s when the Abnegation part of me tells me I’ve done something wrong. I highly doubt that will come from Eric, so I lie still. I feel oddly safe surrounded in this cocoon created by his body. He doesn’t seem inclined to move, so I trace the lines of the maze tattooed on his arm. His forearm twitches, but he doesn’t pull away.

“What’s with the mazes?” I whisper.

He stirs and I regret speaking. His voice is strangely gentle when he says, “Uh-uh, Stiff. It’s just sex. Take a nap. I’m tired.”

“You aren’t kicking me out?”

He sighs. “Four would love that.”

Oh, yeah. This was just supposed to be a charade for Tobias. I forgot that somewhere around the time that Eric kissed me. It hits me that I just had the best sex of my life with _Eric_. Eric, who held Christina over the chasm. Eric, who made Four throw knives at me. Eric, who paired me with Peter, knowing I couldn’t beat him. Eric, who made my skin crawl the first time I met him. And now his arms are around me and I can feel the hair on his chest brushing against my back when he breathes.

“You’re on the shot, right?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Should have asked that before. I forgot to use a condom. I’m clean, but we don’t need any little Stiffs running around.”

“I got tested after I found out about Four and Shauna,” I tell him. That had been one of the most embarrassing things I’ve ever had to do. Fortunately, the nurse apparently sees this all the time because she didn’t bat an eyelash at my request.

“That’s usually something you should discuss before jumping into bed with someone,” he says. “Just for future reference. I figure sex ed in Abnegation goes something like, ‘Sex for anything but procreation is self-indulgent. Don’t do it until you’re married.’”

“Something like that,” I say.

“Add that to the training roster for initiates,” he mutters into the pillow.


	3. Eric: Expectation vs Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this one took a little longer than promised. The holiday screwed my schedule up. But here it is!  
> NSFW

I am so screwed. I didn’t plan to fuck Tris. I’d figured we’d make out for a few minutes and then come into my apartment and I’d finish going over the stuff we had to do today on my personal computer. I wanted it to look like I’d fucked her, but I had no intention of sleeping with a little Stiff whose only experience with sex came with a relationship. She’s a good girl. I don’t fuck girls like her. Girls like her have expectations and emotions. They get attached and I don’t do attachments, especially not now.

But, fuck, she feels good. I wasn’t expecting her to get as into it as she did or to keep up with me the way she did. That was tame for me, but I’m sure she thought it was filthy. I can’t picture Four going for anything but missionary with the lights off. It makes me wonder what else she’d be willing to let me do to her. If I don’t cut that line of thinking off, I won’t let her out of bed for a week.

I pull out with more than a little reluctance and roll onto my back with my arm across my face. I don’t want to see whatever expression is on hers. I don’t want to see her looking at me all open and vulnerable. It’s bad enough when she lays her head on my chest. Her hair tickles my chin and I brush it down. Her small hand comes to rest over my heart and her fingers trace lazy circles on my skin.

It feels better than it should. My mind is racing, but my body feels more relaxed than it has in years. I could sleep like this, which is probably a good thing since I can’t get rid of her yet. If Four sees me drag her inside and then kick her out a few hours later, it’ll just reaffirm to him that I’m an asshole and he’ll feel smug instead of broken. The idea of him sitting in front of the monitors all night, waiting for her to leave is worth the discomfort of having someone else in my space.

Tris’ lips graze my neck and I bring my hand up to her hip, thinking she might be asking for round two, but when I look down at her, her eyes are closed. Her breathing is soft and even. She’s asleep and now I’m horny again. Damn it. She throws her leg over my waist, rubbing her thigh against my cock, and I stifle a groan.

I need to think about something other than her soft little body pressed up against mine or I’ll roll her over and take her again whether she’s awake or not. Peter. Peter’s the ultimate turnoff. I need to find someone to replace him, but who? He’s the perfect amoral, ambitious lackey. As long as he thinks there’s something in it for him, he’ll do whatever I want. And I have to be careful about getting rid of him because he knows too much and he’ll squeal the minute he thinks opening his mouth will be better for him than keeping it shut. I could intimidate him, but that won’t last forever.

Jeanine has noticed a higher-than-average distribution of Divergents among the factionless, which I suppose shouldn’t be surprising. We still patrol the factionless sectors, though Abnegation has been fighting us on that lately. I could assign him there if I tell him his job is to hunt Divergents. I can’t patrol, so having eyes and ears there would be a benefit and it would keep him away from me. And from Tris. If I promise to put him in charge of the patrols, he’ll see it as a promotion and a step up toward leadership. Not that Max or I would ever let Peter get his toe in the door on that. We aren’t stupid.

Resolving the Peter issue has the desired effect and I’m able to go to sleep. I don’t sleep well under the best of circumstances. My conscience—what’s left of it—isn’t clear enough for that. If I can get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep, I’ll be happy. I wonder what Four will do if I show up for dinner with Tris at my side. The look on his face will be priceless.

 

~*~*~*~

 

I get more than a few hours. By the time I wake up, the clock tells me it’s breakfast I’ll be taking with Tris, not dinner. I haven’t slept this long since before my Choosing Day. Tris stirs and I watch her warily. She seems to forget that it’s me and not Four that she’s in bed with because she wraps her arm around me and buries her face in my neck. Her teeth scrape over my leadership stripes and heat churns in my groin.

Fuck it. She’s asking for it. Literally.

I hitch her up so that she’s straddling my waist and slide her down onto me. She’s wet and soft and hot and I could spend all day buried inside of her like this. Her eyes are still closed and she drops her forehead onto my sternum, so I wrap my hands around her hips and guide her. She’s pliable with sleep and it takes none of the effort this morning that it did yesterday for her to take me to the hilt.

She pushes herself up into a sitting position and rakes the hair out of her face. Her eyes are still closed, but her head tilts back and she starts to move on her own. I lie back and stack my hands behind my head so I can watch her. The view is top shelf. She’s so little, I feel like I’ll break her if I’m too rough, but she’s strong, too. Her toned muscles ripple as she works and when she arches her back, her breasts jut out. They’re small, but I like them. I wish Four could see his girl riding me like this.

She rolls her hips and I forget Four. I forget watching her. My hands grip the pillow beneath my head and I close my eyes so I can just feel her. I want to roll her over and fuck her, but when I move, her legs lock around me and she holds me in place. I could overpower her, but I like her boldness. I open my eyes again to find her watching me with a satisfied smirk on her lips. It makes me chuckle. The little Stiff likes that, huh?

“Faster,” I tell her. My voice is husky and it comes out more an order than a request. Good.

She shakes her head and my eyes widen in disbelief. She keeps up her maddeningly slow pace and I fight the urge to grab her and slam her down onto me. Her lips are parted and she’s breathing heavily. Her eyes are beginning to glaze. I’m close, but I’ll let her finish first. I didn’t get to see her last time and I want to watch her face when she loses it.

Her head falls back again. I grin wickedly and bring my hand down to rub my thumb over her clit. She makes a sharp sound and her hips buck. Her rhythm falters, so I take over, drawing my knees up for leverage. I thrust up into her and her nails rake over my chest, leaving angry pink lines on my skin. It’s a good thing I don’t take my shirt off in front of people often because I’m fairly certain she drew blood last night.

I feel her begin to flutter around me and have to fight to maintain my control. Fuck, she feels amazing. It’s been longer than I care to admit since I got laid and I just want to pound into her. When she whimpers, “Eric, please,” I give in to the urge and flip us so that she’s on her back. Her legs lock around my waist and she bows up into me, meeting me thrust for thrust. Her tight little body writhes beneath me. The sound of my name on her lips drives all rational thought from my head. The only thing I can think is _mine_. She’s mine and Four can go fuck himself.

I am so screwed.

She gives a sharp moan and tightens around me. My control shatters and I bury myself in her, pulsing my release deep into her body.

“You smell good,” she mutters a few minutes later.

I scoff. “I smell like sweat and sex. And you smell like alcohol and sweat and sex.”

It’ll take too long for the water to heat again if we go individually, so we shower together. I’ve never showered with a girl before. If she was any bigger, we wouldn’t both fit in the cramped space. As it is, we bump into each other a few times before she presses herself against the back wall and says, “Why don’t we take turns?”

 She watches me. I’m not self-conscious about my body. I know what it can do and I know it looks good. It’s still unnerving to have her eyes on me while I clean myself. I turn my back on her and am startled when her hands slide up my spine. I look over my shoulder at her. “What are you doing?”

“Washing your back,” she says as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

It’s more intimate than I’m comfortable with, but her thumbs dig into the muscles on my shoulders as she does it and I find myself bracing a hand on the wall and letting her do it. “Your Stiff side is showing,” I mutter, but I can’t bring myself to complain. It feels too good. I carry a lot of tension in my neck and shoulders and she works the knots until they release. If I was just a guy and she was just a girl, I’d be tempted to keep her.

But we aren’t, so when we switch places, I don’t reciprocate. There’s been far too much intimacy for just a fuck already. I don’t need her getting ideas. We’re just doing this to get into Four’s head. It’s no different than initiation. Publicly, sure, we can do shit that’ll get to him, but when it’s just us and no cameras, there needs to be a line. We may be a team in this, but we aren’t a couple.

She washes her face and I get a good look at the marks Four left on her for the first time. My fists clench and I imagine burying them in his face. She really had done a good job with her makeup. The crescent under her eye is a livid purple and the edges are beginning to turn yellow and green. Her jaw bears a clear handprint and the cut in her lip is a bright, angry red. She looked worse after Peter got done with her, but that was a planned fight. This is just abuse.

We finish our shower and get dressed. She needs clean clothes, so we stop by her apartment. She clears the rooms like she’s expecting enemies before disappearing into the bedroom.

While she’s changing, I indulge my curiosity and look around. The hole from Four’s fist is still in the plaster and it goes deep enough to tell me he wasn’t pulling his punches. I imagine that being Tris’ face. She’s lucky she walked away with nothing more than a black eye and a split lip. My tongue goes to the tooth that got replaced after he knocked it out during our fight back in training. He’s stronger than he looks. If he’d landed the punch that caught the wall, she’d have had broken bones. I turn away from the wall and make a mental note to have maintenance come patch it up. She doesn’t need the reminder.

The apartment is neat and tidy under the evidence of their fight, exactly what I’d expect from a couple of Stiffs. There isn’t a spot of dust anywhere, but debris litters the living room and kitchen. A shattered drawer still lies beside the door and broken glass sparkles around a shattered picture frame. A bootprint covers the picture inside. It’s Tris and Four, of course. It was taken in the Pit and he has her on his back. They’re looking at each other and the utter bliss on their faces makes me want to step on it, too.

More glass crunches under my boots as I walk through the living room to the kitchen. I can picture Four tearing through here after she got away from him. It’s no wonder she’s scared of him. I’ve seen him lose it. He keeps his pain and rage from childhood bottled up, but it’s still there, seething beneath the surface and when it blows, it blows hard. What I don’t know is what happened to make him snap this time. Was it merely the mention of my name or is there something more going on? I make another note to have Gus look into what he’s been doing lately.

Tris isn’t a girly girl, so I start getting impatient when it takes her longer than I expect to get ready. When she finally does come out, though, I realize what took so long. The bruises on her face are covered again and her hair is strategically arranged to hide the last bit of swelling. It probably does take a while to hide the evidence, especially since the marks would be more visible today than they were yesterday. They should start to fade in a day or two, but she’s going to have to work to keep them covered today. I’ll keep her busy in the office so no one else sees her.

She doesn’t look around and doesn’t look back when we leave. I wonder if she’d rather move to a different apartment. She’ll be moving into the Pire once her training is done, but I suppose I can find somewhere else for her to go for now if she doesn’t want to stay here. If she was afraid to be here, I’d tell her to get over it. This isn’t about courage, though. If she can’t sleep because she’s reliving her fight every time she looks around, then she isn’t going to be any good to me at work.

Heads turn when we walk into the cafeteria together. I’m used to people watching me and conversation stopping when I enter a room, but this is different. Tris and I occasionally come in for meals together out of convenience, so they’re used to seeing us together, but they aren’t used to seeing her hand in mine. It surprised me when she slid her fingers between mine, but I’ve seen her walk that way with Four often enough to know that it’ll send a message to him if he sees her doing it with me, so I let it slide.

I do wonder how much damage is being done to my reputation right now, though. It’s hard to look intimidating when you’re holding hands with a girl. I see someone whisper to the girl beside her and release Tris. The girl looks up at me with wide eyes when she sees me standing over her with a glower on my face. “Got something to say to the group?” I snarl.

“No. Nothing,” she says quickly.

“That’s what I thought. Keep your mouth shut.”

She turns back to her food and I let my eyes pass over the crowd. Heads duck and whispers stop. That’s better. I go back to Tris and put my hand on her back instead. She smirks up at me like she knows exactly what I was doing. I’m sure she does.

We get our food and I guide her to my table. Max raises an eyebrow when I wait for her to take her seat and then sit down beside her.

“There better not be anything inappropriate going on here, Eric,” Max warns in a low voice.

“We’re fucking with Four,” I tell him. “He pissed Tris off.”

“She found out about Shauna,” he says.

“Does everybody know?” she asks in an exasperated tone.

“Just those of us with access to the security systems,” he says.

“A heads up would have been nice,” she mutters.

Four walks in as we’re finishing our breakfast, so I turn to face Tris and brace my legs on either side of her. She reaches over and takes my hand. Max smirks, but keeps his mouth shut. He may want Four for leadership, but that doesn’t mean he likes him.

Four’s step falters when he sees us. I lean into Tris and tuck her hair behind her ear. “Don’t look now,” I whisper, “but he’s coming this way.”

Her grip on my hand tightens, but to her credit, she doesn’t cower. Instead, she turns to face me and runs her thumb over my lower lip. I nip it playfully and see her pupils dilate. She glides her thumb over my knuckles and smiles. This is how she used to look at Four. For a moment, I see why he was so crazy about her. A part of me that I didn’t know existed wishes briefly that she would look at me like that for real. The rest of me rejects it as foolish.

She doesn’t look up when Four stomps over to us and demands of Max, “You’re actually letting this happen? She’s his trainee!”

Max shrugs and says, “That didn’t seem to be an issue when she was your initiate. At least now she isn’t at risk of being cut because of it.”

Tris’ brow furrows. “I almost got cut because of him?”

Max nods. “We didn’t want anyone saying you made it because you were getting special treatment from your instructor. If Lauren hadn’t offered to score you in Four’s place, you’d have been out.”

Four says, “And Eric was the one leading the cry for it.”

I shrug and run my hands up her thighs. “She knows everyone has to earn their place here. She’d make the same call if she saw an instructor trying to rank an initiate higher than she deserved just because he liked her.” I look down at Tris. “Would you rather risk getting cut and make it on your own merits or get through because of him?”

“I’d rather be factionless than pass when I didn’t deserve it,” she says fiercely.

“That’s my girl,” I praise and kiss her forehead. Four grinds his teeth together hard enough that I’m surprised they don’t shatter. Tris gives me a shy smile and I say, “Well, it’s time to get to work.” I stand and take her hand. She collects both of our trays and I make sure my shoulder shoves against Four’s when we pass. I feel his eyes boring into my back all the way out of the cafeteria.

In the hallway, Tris stops and leans against the wall, biting her lip. At first, I think she might cry, but then she laughs. “Did you see his face? That was priceless!”

“This is more fun than I expected,” I admit.

She turns serious and places a hand on my chest. “Thank you, Eric,” she says softly. “Yesterday, I felt powerless. Today, I feel like I’m in control. You did that for me.” She pushes up onto her tiptoes and drops a kiss on my jaw.

“Yeah, well, if it means fucking with that prick, I’m all in.”

“Why do you hate him so much?” she asks as we begin walking toward the Pire.

“You really want to know?” I ask. She nods. “I’m sure he’s told you about Amar.” She nods again and I sigh. Of course, he did. “I’ve never liked Four. At first, I just thought he was weak. Then, Amar died. I didn’t kill him, but Four believes I did. He’s hated me ever since and the feeling has been mutual.”

“How did Amar die?” she asks.

I shrug. “I don’t know. I didn’t even see his body. I just heard about it afterward. I was the last person to see him alive. We’d argued. But when I left, he was just as alive as you are. I heard he either jumped or fell from the Pire, but I don’t know if it was an accident or suicide or if Four’s right and it was murder.”

It wasn't any of those things, but I'm not about to tell her that. Only one person in Chicago knows what I've done and I plan to keep it that way. I've found a way to live with the blood on my hands--there's plenty of it--and that's all anyone else needs to know. 

“That’s it? That’s why you hate him?”

Should I tell her? Does she already know? Could Tris confirm my suspicions? She knows Jeanine is hunting Divergents. Everyone here does. She just doesn’t know I work for Jeanine. Unless Four told her his own suspicions. I doubt she’d have anything to do with me if he did or if she believed them, but it’s possible that I’ve managed to allay them without realizing it and mentioning his Divergence could bring them up again. On the other hand, it could draw her closer to my side of things.

“What do you know about Divergents?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

She stiffens. It’s subtle enough that I would have missed it if I wasn’t still touching her, but I feel it. She does know.

“Not much,” she says. Her voice is too casual. It’s possible she still wants to protect him. She wants to hurt him, sure, but she won’t let me get him kicked out, so I doubt she wants him dead. But how would she know that he was in danger?

“We studied them back in Erudite,” I tell her. “They don’t conform to the faction system. They’re aware during simulations. They can’t be controlled and they’re unpredictable. They’re dangerous.”

“And you think Four’s one of them?” she scoffs.

“I can’t prove it,” I say.

“What would you do if you could?” she asks.

The tension hasn’t left her. If anything, it increases. I can’t tell her the truth.

“Divergents belong with the factionless where they can’t do any harm,” I lie. “If they aren’t part of the system in the first place, then their nonconformity doesn’t matter.”

I feel her relax. She at least suspects that he would come to harm if we were able to prove it. She says, “Oh. I suppose that makes sense. But Four isn’t Divergent. He’s Dauntless through and through.”

“You sure about that, Stiff?” I ask as we approach our offices.

She looks me in the eye. “If he is, he’s never told me about it and I think he would have.”

She sounds certain. So, why would she be worried that I suspect him? She could still be covering for him, but if she’s lying, I can’t tell and I can usually figure it out with her. She wouldn’t make it in Candor, either. She doesn’t have any hesitation about lying. She’s just bad at it.

“Well, that’s a relief, isn’t it?” I say. “We certainly don’t need Divergents running around with guns.”

“No,” she murmurs, looking away. “I guess we don’t.”

There aren’t any cameras in our offices, so I stop her before we go in and kiss her soundly. We’re both breathless by the time I draw back. I can easily picture her bent over the desk, screaming my name, but there’s work to be done, so I check myself. It’s time to put some space between us anyway and make sure she remembers this is just a façade.

It’s a good thing I decide that, too, because a few hours later, her hand brushes mine while we’re working and it feels deliberate. I pull away from her and give her a pointed look. “No cameras here, Stiff. Unless you want to fuck on the desk, keep your hands to yourself.”

She bites her lip and hurt flashes across her face, but she squares her shoulders and turns back to the computer. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she says coldly.


	4. Tris: God Laughed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans. --Woody Allen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sort of. Stuff is slowly getting better stabilized with my heart condition, so I'm trying to get my creative juices flowing again. To that end, here's the next chapter. To those who've been reading, thank you for being patient and sticking with me!

“This was a terrible idea,” I groan, flopping back on the rooftop. Christina and I came up here to be alone so we could talk and we’re both far from sober.

“I tried to warn you that you were making a deal with the devil,” she says. “You didn’t listen.”

“He’s hot. He’s cold. He’s hot again. I can’t keep up,” I say. “One minute, he can’t keep his hands off me and the next, he’s pushing me away.”

“I still can’t believe you’re actually sleeping with _Eric_ ,” she says. “Gross.”

“Not gross,” I say, staring up at the stars. “Not gross at all.”

She rolls onto her side and props herself on her elbow. “ _Really_?” she asks. “You’re telling me that sex with Eric is actually good?” I nod. “Better than Four?” I nod again. “Oh. My. God. So that’s why you’ve kept this going.”

It’s been almost two months since Eric and I came up with our plan to get back at Tobias. It’s working. Four was angry at first. Now, he seems to have accepted it and walks around dejected, giving me puppy-dog eyes whenever he sees me. I’m not even getting a thrill out of his misery anymore. It’s just pathetic. But every time I decide to break it off with Eric, we end up back at his place or at mine and I decide to put it off just a little longer because there is no chance that I’m ever going to find someone who rocks my world the way he does.

“At least you aren’t falling for him,” she says. “That would be bad.” I throw my arm over my face and groan again. She gasps. “You are _not_ falling for him! Tris!”

“You don’t understand,” I say without looking at her. “He isn’t just an asshole. There are times when he’s really sweet.”

“Are we talking about the same person who dangled me over the chasm during initiation? Because there is _nothing_ sweet about that guy.”

“He isn’t like that all the time,” I tell her.

It can’t just be my imagination. It _can’t_.

When we’re together, we always stay the night. He says it’s because Four won’t buy it if we’re constantly sneaking out of each other’s place after only a few hours, but he holds me in his sleep the way he did the first night. Even if I try to move away from him, he follows and pulls me back to him. And I haven’t been imagining that he’s started running his thumb over my knuckles when we hold hands walking to the cafeteria or going to work in the mornings. And there was that one time when we weren’t in view of the cameras and I said something that made him laugh and he hugged me.

But then there are the other times when we’re alone and there are no cameras around when he’s almost cruel again and I see the Eric from initiation. He only lets me get so close and then he shoves me away again, either by shutting down on me or going cold or saying something that reminds me I’m just a convenient lay and a way to get back at Four. It’s like he forgets sometimes and then feels like he has to remind both of us.

“You have to break it off,” she says firmly.

“I’ve tried. I can’t. I’m addicted to him or something.”

“Gross,” she says again.

I look at her from under my elbow. “Chris, can you forget you hate him for a minute and just be a girl with me?”

She huffs and rolls her eyes. “You’d better be glad I’m such a good friend. Fine. Without hating him, I’ll say this. You put up with this kind of thing from Four for months and you shouldn’t have. So, I can’t say it’s okay when Eric does it. However, sometimes—just _sometimes_ , understand?—I catch him watching you when you aren’t looking and there’s something…not-Eric about the way he looks at you. Maybe he’s scared.”

I laugh. “Eric isn’t afraid of anything.”

“Come on. You know better than that. What is it that Four likes to say? Everyone’s afraid of something. He’s never had a girlfriend; at least, not in Dauntless. He has no friends to speak of but Peter and even Peter’s out of favor now. You’re the only person I know of who’s ever been inside his apartment except maybe Max. You’re the only person he spends time with outside of work. That’s a lot of change in just a few weeks. Guys tend to panic over stuff like that.”

“So, do I give him a chance to adjust or do I try to end it?” I ask.

She throws a handful of pebbles at me. “He almost killed me. You end it, dummy! Sorry. There’s a limit to my ability to play devil’s advocate with him.” She looks at me sideways. “Is the sex really that good?”

“Amazing,” I sigh.

“That _is_ a tough decision,” she says.

 

~*~*~*~

 

The next morning, Eric and I are in the gym. Part of my leadership training is advanced combat exercises. He’s been working on my hand-to-hand, which he says is still deplorable. I’m getting better, but today isn’t a good day. I rarely get hangovers, but the one I have today has knocked me on my ass—literally—all morning.

He steps back and drops his hands. “What’s up with you today, Stiff? You’re slow. You’re weak. You aren’t holding your block and your punches have no power. Even Shauna could beat you today and she sucks.”

“I drank too much yesterday,” I say, bending over and bracing my hands on my knees. The room is spinning.

“You’re letting a hangover get the better of you? If you can’t hold your alcohol, you shouldn’t drink. This is a waste of time. We’re done fighting for the day. Go run laps and sweat that poison out.”

He turns and strides from the room. I chug down my fourth or fifth bottle of water today and start running. There are cameras in the gym, but I’m not surprised at his lack of sympathy. He never goes easy on me during training. No one expects him to and I don’t want him to. He’ll resume the show after we’re done and usually throws an arm around my shoulders when we leave or tucks my hair behind my ear and kisses me. Once, when he knew Four was in the control room and no one was scheduled to use the gym, he dragged me behind the lockers and had his way with me against the wall. While we’re training, though, he’s the hard-ass instructor he was during initiation.

I run as hard and fast as my body will allow, trying to take his advice and get the last of the alcohol out of my system. My stomach churns and I have to stop in the corner to throw up in the trash can. I didn’t hear Eric return, but I feel his hand between my shoulders.

“There you go,” he says, taking my hair. “Get that shit out.”

“Go away,” I say without looking up at him.

“Embarrassed?” he asks with a laugh. “Why? You think I’ve never seen a trainee puke before? Hell, I’m more familiar with this trash can than you are.”

“Doesn’t mean I want you seeing me,” I tell him.

I straighten and he hands me a towel and a bottle of water. I keep my back to him as I clean myself up and he lightly rubs my shoulders. I wonder if it’s for the benefit of the cameras or if this is a genuine moment. It’s stupid to think that way.

“Better?” he asks when I turn around.

“I think so,” I say.

He puts his arm around my shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get you home. Get a shower. Get some soup or something. I need you back in shape tomorrow. We’re going to Amity.”

“What are we doing at Amity?” I ask.

“I have to meet with Johanna,” he says. “Your training is almost done. It’s time you start coming to meetings with me. You need to learn how to deal with the other faction leaders and they need to see you in an official capacity, not just as a kid. It takes them a while to do that with the younger leaders.”

When we arrive at my apartment, he sprawls on the couch with his feet on the coffee table. I glare at him and he laughs but tugs his boots off anyway. He’s in a good mood today. Surprising, considering that I know he doesn’t like Amity. Most Dauntless don’t. Our values are at odds.

“Drink some water,” he calls out over his shoulder as I go back to the bathroom to shower.

When I come back, he’s still on the couch, but he’s taken a book from my shelf and is reading it. I stop in the doorway to watch him. Sometimes, I wonder if he isn’t Divergent himself. Not for the first time, I think he looks like an Erudite in Dauntless clothing. It’s strange seeing him so studious given his tattoos and piercings. I wonder if this is what he was like as a kid. I think of the books Caleb kept hidden in his room. Eric wouldn’t have had to hide his. I can picture him wearing an Erudite haircut and blue clothing, sitting at a desk with a book in front of him. I wonder if he wore glasses. A lot of the Erudite do even if they don’t need them.

A smile creeps onto my face and I bite my lip to stop it from spreading. I do not need to be standing here picturing him as a child and thinking he’s cute. Eric is many things. Cute isn’t one of them. He glances up at me and it really does look like he should be wearing glasses and peering at me over the top of them. Damn it. All right. He’s cute. Sometimes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, scowling.

“You look very Erudite right now,” I say, pushing off of the wall.

He closes the book with a snap and swiftly puts it back on the table. “I’m not Erudite,” he says sharply.

“I didn’t say you were,” I say. “I just said you looked it. Kind of like when you call me Stiff and say my Abnegation is showing.”

Some of the tension drains out of him and I cock my head. I’ve casually wondered if he’s Divergent, but his reaction makes me actually consider it. He’s smart. Really smart. Most people don’t give him enough credit for his intelligence. They see the piercings and tattoos and black clothing and ruthlessness and they think he’s just another Dauntless. We aren’t ignorant, but we aren’t known for our intellect like the Erudite, either.

I’ve learned a lot about the way he thinks through his training. He doesn’t think like a Dauntless. He’s analytical, methodical, and brilliant. I’m smart and I know I have an Erudite aptitude and he still makes me feel stupid sometimes. I could chalk that up to his upbringing, but if he was just Dauntless, would he have absorbed Erudite’s way of thinking so fully? Would he still have a library of books that makes mine look pitiful? He doesn’t indulge in the mindless pastimes that the Dauntless seem to prefer. Instead, he reads and does puzzles and writes computer programs for fun. He may not look like it, but Eric is more of a Nose than even Will.

He hates Divergents and I suspect he’s afraid of them. Of us. I’ve been very careful to hide my own Divergence from him and I’ve covered for Four as well as I can even though I’m still mad at him. I don’t want him to die. I just want him to leave me alone. Telling Eric about either one of us would be foolish. Even if he does like me, I doubt that goes deep enough for him to protect me the way Four did whether he’s Divergent, too, or not. If he is, he’s either a self-hating one or he’s oblivious. Or maybe he just thinks that because he’s aware of his own motivations, he isn’t a threat like the rest of us. I don’t know, but I’d like to find out. It would be nice to know for sure whether or not I can trust him.

He pulls his boots back on and joins me in the kitchen. He sits at the bar and watches me work. “You do that like you’re good at it.”

“Growing up, we took turns making dinner,” I tell him. “I like cooking.”

When Four lived here, we fell easily into that routine. One night, he would cook and I would clean. The next, I cooked and he cleaned. Occasionally, we would do both together. The only time one of us sat out was if we were sick or if one of us had had a long day and the other had an easy one. Even then, we usually did something.

“You don’t use a recipe,” Eric says.  

“I don’t need one.”

“How do you know your proportions are right?”

I smirk at him. His Erudite is coming out a lot today. “Experience. Can you cook?” We’ve never made a meal together before. We generally eat separately or go to the dining hall.

“Of course,” he says. “Cooking is a science. Every Erudite kid knows how to do it just like every Dauntless kid knows how to get on and off the train.”

“I’ve never thought of it that way,” I say.

He snorts. “You wouldn’t. Stiff.”

“Nose.”

“Bitch.”

“Asshole.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“What has you in such a good mood today?” I ask.

He grins. “Right. I didn’t tell you yet. Four came to me this morning. He’s reached the, ‘If you hurt her, I’ll kill you,’ stage.”

“He needs to let it go,” I say.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he asks.

I sigh and stir the soup. “It is. I just wish he’d get it through his head that we’re over. He crossed a line.”

“Getting sick of me, Stiff? You want to stop, just say so.”

I should. I know I should. If I don’t, I’m just going to get hurt. It isn’t a far cry from thinking he was probably a cute kid to wondering what he’d be like with his own kids and that is a very, very dangerous line of thought. But I like him and I’m not ready for this to end yet. If he’d asked on a day when he was being an ass, I might be able to say yes. I can’t when he’s looking at me with his lips quirked and his eyes sparkling like he already knows my answer.

“No. I just want him to leave me alone while he suffers.”

He laughs and stretches his arms above his head. “I knew it. You can’t resist me.” He comes around and wraps his arms around my waist and nuzzles my neck. “How are you feeling?”

“Not _that_ good, unfortunately,” I say. My stomach is still uneasy. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to finish even soup.

“Damn,” he says. “I was just thinking how hot you’d look bent over this counter. But if you’re not up for it, I guess I’ll just have to wait.”

Taking a chance, I turn to face him and wrap my arms around his waist. I tilt my head back to look up at him and say, “You sound disappointed.”

His fingers trail up my back. “I am. That doesn’t mean I’m going to push. Much.”

My forehead drops to his chest and I close my eyes, enjoying the feeling of his fingers running up and down my back. It’s moments like these that tell me I’m getting in over my head. When he’s like this, I think I could be with him forever. When we’re teasing each other and he’s touching me without the benefit of cameras or the hope of getting laid, I think that maybe he’d be far more right for me than Four ever was.

His hand cups my jaw and he tilts my face up so that I’m looking at him again. His voice is gentle when he reminds me, “It’s still just sex, Stiff.”

“Does that mean we can’t be friends, too?” I ask before I can stop myself.

He drops his forehead onto mine. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t want to fall for me, Tris. I’m not a nice guy.”

“I’m not a nice girl.”

He snorts. “Yeah, you are. You may get a little dirty with me every now and then and you hold your own with the Dauntless, but you’re still a good girl. If your parents were Dauntless, you’d be asking me to meet them and eventually, you’re going to expect something more than friends with benefits. I can’t give that to you. You need someone who actually has a heart.”

I catch his eye and very deliberately place my hand on his chest.

He sighs and pulls away from me. “Tris…look, I really enjoy fucking you and I love fucking with Four. But if you’re getting attached, this needs to stop. I don’t do relationships.”

I cross my arms over my chest and swallow past the lump in my throat. “Why don’t you worry about you and let me worry about me?”

“Because, it’ll end up spilling over onto me and I don’t want that.”

“It won’t.”

“You sure about that, Stiff?”

He isn’t the only one who can be unkind. “You really think _I_ would ever love _you_? I don’t think you need to worry, Eric. I haven’t forgotten who you are.”

Something moves behind his eyes, but it’s gone before I can decipher it and he’s shuttered again. “Your soup’s going to burn,” he says and walks away. The door slams behind him when he leaves.

I sigh heavily. We were having such a good day even if I did feel like shit. Now, I feel like shit _and_ he’s mad at me. But why should he be? I didn’t say anything worse than anything he’s said to me before. So, he can dish it out, but he can’t take it? Is he really that insecure?

 

* * *

 

 

My nausea fades when I lie down that night and I think my hangover is finally gone, but it resurfaces as soon as I’m upright the following morning. Alcohol isn’t the problem. This is _not_ the time to be sick. I can’t miss the meeting with Amity, so I get ready and eat a slice of bread to calm my stomach. I don’t dare put anything more on it. I don’t want to get sick again.

Eric meets me at the office and we go down to the motor pool. He puts his hand on my back, but he doesn’t speak. He’s still mad and his bad mood is evident. People scurry to get out of our way. He snaps at Richards and insists he doesn’t need a driver. To my surprise, he directs me to the driver’s seat and gives me a hand up. I look at him in confusion.

“You have to learn sometime. Might as well be now.” He climbs into the passenger seat and slams the door. “Besides, I don’t feel like company. Adjust the mirrors so you can see.”

I bite my lip and do as he says. “Eric, I—”

He shakes his head. “Just shut up and put your foot on the brake. Right foot. Left pedal. Be glad this one’s automatic. You’ll have to learn to use a stick eventually, but we’ll start with this. Anything in your way?”

“No.”

“Good. Shift your foot onto the gas and press down.” I do and we lurch forward. I slam my foot onto the brake and the truck rocks to a halt. “Gently, Tris! Jesus!” he shouts.

“Sorry! I don’t know what I’m doing!”

“Haven’t you ever paid attention when someone was driving before?”

“No! I’m always in the back!”

“Fuck!” He rakes his hands through his hair. “All right, look. Slow transitions. Your speed is directly related to the amount of pressure you put on the throttle or the brake. Start gradually and then pick up speed once you’re comfortable. Ease your foot onto the brake to slow. You don’t need to slam it down unless you need to stop for something like a kid running out in front of you. Otherwise, ease into it. Slow down before you turn. These things are top-heavy and you’ll roll if you try to barrel around a curve without knowing what you’re doing. Now, try again.”

I push down on the gas pedal more gently this time and the truck rolls forward. Eric slumps back into his seat and rubs his hands over his face. “Have you ever taught anyone to drive before?” I ask.

“No. Keep your eyes on the road.”

We proceed at first in fits and starts. I misjudge my speed going around a turn and the truck rocks, but stays upright. Eric curses. “I think I have a new fear,” he mutters, leaning his head back against the headrest.

“What?”

“Your driving. If we don’t make it to Amity, tell Johanna I love her.”

“You what?!” I sputter.

He smirks. “It’s a joke, Tris. Unlike your driving. Which is just terrible.”

“It’s my first time! That just means you’re a bad teacher.”

“Ha! I’ve taught you just fine in everything else. This one’s on you.”

“Are you over being pissed off at me now?” I ask, glancing over at him.

“Imminent death has a way of bringing people together,” he says. “I’ll be pissed again later.”

“Why?” I ask. “God knows you push me away often enough.”

“I know I’m a ruthless piece of shit, Tris. I don’t need you to remind me.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” I say.

“Not now.”

“Oh.” I twist my hands on the steering wheel. “I don’t think you’re a piece of shit, Eric. Ruthless, yes. Unredeemable, no.”

He gives a humorless laugh. “You don’t know me well enough.”

“You don’t let me.” 

“You don’t need to.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Eric…”

“Just drive, Tris.”

“Why won’t you just let me in?!” I shout. My foot slams down onto the brake, bringing us to a rocking halt.

“You want in?” he asks in the same tone he used on Christina before he took her to the chasm. “You really want to know me, Stiff?”

I gather my courage and look him in the eye. “Yes.”

“I don’t think you do,” he says. “I don’t think you really want to know what happened to Al. I’ve got blood on my hands, Tris. Not Amar’s, but plenty of others. Are you sure you want to know who you’re fucking? Because I’ll tell you and when I do, you’ll run back to the safety of your friends and tell them what a horrible, unforgivable person I am.”

“What does Al have to do with this?” I whisper. I can still see him with his dark doll’s eyes and his blue lips.

“You really think he had the courage to jump?” he asks. “Cowards don’t ‘venture into the darkness without knowing what lies beyond it’, no matter what the speech says.”

“Al wasn’t Divergent.”

“No, he wasn’t. He was a craven who tried to murder a friend.”

“You killed him?” My voice is barely audible.

“He didn’t jump,” he says firmly.

It wasn’t my fault. That’s the first thought that comes into my head. It wasn’t my fault. Al didn’t kill himself because of what I said to him. How selfish am I? Eric just confessed to murdering one of my fellow initiates, someone I had once called friend, and all I can think is that I’m absolved. I lay my head on the steering wheel as my hands begin to shake.

“Told you, you didn’t want to know.”

“It’s not that,” I whisper. “I’m…relieved.”

“Why?” he asks, sounding stunned.

“I thought he jumped because of me.”

Eric laughs. At first, it’s just an expulsion of air and then it’s a full, rolling laugh that fills the truck. He gasps for air and leans back in his seat. “God, Stiff. You’re just as bad as I am.” He turns serious. “Except that you’re not. You know the difference between you and me?”

“What?”

“I wouldn’t feel guilty about it.” He looks at me. “You want more or is that enough soul-bearing for one day?”

“I think that’s enough,” I say.

“About damn time. Drive.”

I’m still shaking, but I sit up and put my foot on the gas anyway. The truck bounces over the dirt road leading to the fence. I don’t know what to think about Eric’s revelation. I know my stomach is caught somewhere north of my heart and I focus instead on not getting sick. When we arrive at Amity, Eric gets out of the truck without speaking and I follow him. I don’t expect him to touch me and he doesn’t. I’m here as his trainee, not his pretend girlfriend. It would be inappropriate.

Johanna’s office is housed in a barn. I’ve never been to Amity before and I don’t know what I’d expected, but that isn’t it. She greets us in the doorway and gestures for us to follow. Horses nicker as we pass by and one nudges Eric with his nose. Eric stops and scratches the horse on its wide, gray forehead. He nuzzles his nose against its velvety muzzle, murmuring something to it that I can’t hear. The horse’s ears flick forward and it nods as if agreeing with him.

Johanna chuckles and shakes her head. “You’re still the only person that mean-tempered stud can stand.”

My jaw drops when he all but coos, “We understand each other. Don’t we, boy? Yeah, we do.”

“Oh. My. God,” I say.

He looks over at me. “What? I like horses.”

“Obviously.”

“It’s his one redeeming quality,” Johanna says with a look I’d call a smirk if she was Dauntless rather than Amity.

“You don’t like horses?” Eric asks.

“I do. I think,” I say. “I’ve just never been around them.” I walk over to a big black one with large splashes of white on its sides and look at it.

Eric leaves the gray one and stands beside me. “Like this,” he says and holds his hand out. “Let him smell you.” I copy him and the horse’s warm breath tickles the back of my hand. Eric scratches its flat cheek and I run my hand down its forehead. The horse snorts and nudges into my palm. “He likes you.”

Johanna says, “I judge people on how well they treat horses. They’ve always been my favorites.”

Eric steps back and I reluctantly drop my hand. We accompany Johanna up a curving wooden staircase into the loft. Her office consists of a desk and a few comfortable-looking chairs. When she goes behind the desk, Eric perches on the edge of one of the chairs and leans forward with his hands clasped. I take the seat beside him.

This is a side of him I’ve never seen. He’s almost deferential with her, but he’s still commanding. He somehow manages to convey both respect and authority at the same time. I study his body language and tone and the way he speaks. This is how I want to be when it comes time for me to meet with the Abnegation leaders. They’re the ones most likely to see me as a child, especially considering that one of them is my father. Thinking of them makes me miss my family and thinking of Marcus makes me think of Four, so I stop.

Eric says, “Your farms are expanding, which means we’ve had to step up our patrols and assign more people to your sector. We would like to negotiate a reduced fee for food supplies rather than an increase in payment in exchange.”

“Goods in exchange for services rather than transferring and converting credits seems more sensible,” Johanna says. “What do you propose?” Eric lays out his terms and she shakes her head with a smile. “I’m Amity, not Erudite or Dauntless, but that doesn’t mean I’m a fool or a pushover. I know that wasn’t Max’s final offer. Try again.”

Eric’s smile in return is genuine. He would have been disappointed if she’d rolled over at his first suggestion. I’ve noticed that he likes to haggle and he’s good at it, but he doesn’t like it to be too easy. They go back and forth for almost an hour before they finally come to an agreement. I try to pay attention to their strategies, but the scent of hay and animals seems to be getting stronger as we sit and my queasiness returns.

I try breathing through my mouth to block the smell, but it doesn’t help. My head feels like it’s floating somewhere above my body and the room begins to spin. I sway in my chair and distantly register that both Johanna and Eric have stopped and are watching me closely. Johanna says, “Are you all right, Tris?”

Eric’s brow furrows and he places his hand on my back. “You’re feeling sick _again_?” he asks softly.

“Since yesterday,” I admit.

Johanna appears at my side with a trash can and puts it between my feet. “Head between your knees, child. I’ll get you some water.”

Eric says, “When we get back, you’re going to the infirmary. This isn’t a hangover. I can’t afford to have you sick this close to the end of your training.”

“I think it’s just the flu or something,” I say.

He places the back of his hand on my forehead. “You don’t feel feverish. Body aches?”

“No. Just dizziness and nausea. I was okay in the truck, but the barn smells.”

“Let’s get you into the fresh air, then,” he says. “You can sit in the truck while I finish up here.”

Johanna returns and says, “Tris, why don’t you go to our infirmary instead and let our doctor have a look at you? It’s a long drive back to Dauntless. You’ll be more comfortable if you can get some kind of treatment first.”

I want to refuse, but Eric agrees and I don’t have the energy to argue. That, more than anything, tells me something is wrong. He puts an arm around my waist and helps me down the stairs. The nausea fades a little bit once we’re out of the barn, but the thought of riding back in the bouncing truck like this is enough to keep me moving toward the domed hut that houses the infirmary.

Eric stays with me until one of the nurses comes and then says, “I’ll come back when we’re finished. Stay here.”

He leaves and the nurse leads me back into a room with a single bed. It’s warmly lit and far more comforting than the spartan infirmary back at Dauntless. Our doctors and nurses treat illness and injury like they’re an obstacle to be conquered. I’m not accustomed to compassion and I’m not entirely comfortable with it anymore.

The nurses here are far too nice. One gives me a soft gown to change into and another checks my temperature and blood pressure. She tries to reassure me, but I don’t need reassurance. I need to know what’s wrong with me. She makes me pee in a cup and I curl my lip, but do it anyway. I’m Dauntless. Embarrassment isn’t going to beat me.

Finally, the doctor comes in and does a quick exam. When she finishes, she sits back and regards me with a warm smile. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you.”

“What?” I ask. “No. I’m sick!” These people are idiots. I should have just waited in the truck and gone back to Dauntless.

“You aren’t sick, Tris. You’re pregnant.”


End file.
